


As Angels Fall, Demons Rise

by queenseraphina



Category: Original Work
Genre: Actors, Fluff, I swear it's not as dark as it seems, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Manipulation, Money, Rebirth, Revenge, Suicide, There will be fluff, i'm not manipulative enough for that kind of thing, it gets better...i hope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:28:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenseraphina/pseuds/queenseraphina
Summary: "When Lucifer fell, he created a kingdom of his own."As far as Vincent knew, he had died. But as if it were all just a dream, he opens his eyes and finds himself five months ago. Deterred by the dark events that had occurred in his 'past life,' Vincent tries to break free from his chains using another means — or rather, another person. And he'a desperate enough to make a deal with his demon's brother, Mikhail Faust.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 2





	As Angels Fall, Demons Rise

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is my first time writing here so i'm still trying to get the hang of it. english is not my first language, and i'm sure that i have lots to improve on but, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for giving this a chance :) i hope you enjoy!

He had died. 

He was sure of it. Vincent had felt the tight noose around his neck, the instinctual panic in his bones after kicking the chair, the slow but sure fading out of his consciousness, of the final flicker of existence. And though it was a painful pill to swallow that his game was over and that he had lost, he had accepted it. Just as he had accepted the sweet release of death, had marvelled at the small, sick smugness that came with losing by his own hand, effectively stopping the humiliating plans that would befall him, courtesy of those sick bastards.

_ He had died. _

So it did not make  _ sense _ that he was sitting here, in his previous apartment, atop the suede sheets of his bed — in the exact same spot he had been five months ago. 

"—cent! If it isn't fucking clear to you, you're going to lose your fucking career!" Hart was barely keeping it together, it seemed. Ah, it wasn't just him then. Vincent could at least relate to that aspect.

Vincent faintly relived the fear and dread that had settled in his chest at the words five months ago, but that was far from his current worries. He knew what was going on, what was happening, what his manager was saying, what his manager was going to say (he halfheartedly believes that he can even recite the exact sequence of words and sentences Ino was going to utter). He even felt that he knew who was going to call, not barely three minutes after this call would end. 

And wasn't that just fucking insane?

He swallows, trying to keep himself from freaking out. "I'll call you back."

"What? Vincent, you—"  _ Beep.  _

After that one click, the phone seems to have doubled — no, tripled in weight. It fell from his grasp, much like how he felt reality was slipping away. Half his mind was purely static; the other a jumble, wondering if he had lost his head, if he had merely been dreaming, and if he should still send the explicit photos on his open laptop. 

Entwined in a kiss in the carpark of the actor's apartment building, the figures' relationship was clear. A new, rapidly rising actor in a relationship with the owner of his entertainment company. The innocence of the relationship, however, would be stained with impure connotations. Not only would it make the headlines because it implied  _ that kind of sponsorship,  _ it would also be a hot topic because of their beloved Sol's apparent homosexuality. 

It would be enough to overlap rumors of Vincent's own sponsorship rumors, he knew that. After all, no one knew he was gay — other than the photos' subjects themselves and Alistair, the sponsor himself. And  _ that,  _ the fact that  _ they  _ knew, was the fatal mistake. The temptation of the chess piece right in front of him. Being so easily, simply  _ there.  _

Vincent gritted his teeth into a mild sneer.  _ Fool.  _

So, he was back to when he was — quite literally, judging by the way the cursor was hovering over the send button — about to hit the last nail of his coffin, huh? 

He deleted the email he was drafting to the media news outlets before snapping the laptop shut. The sheer fear of having to go through that path of his life was enough to deter all thoughts of exposing Sol and Viktor. 

But it did nothing to quell the restlessness. After all, he was back at the waiting phase and he felt like a prey, still enough to shoot without trouble. He was a fish out of water; without power, without influence, dying with every second he spends in this game. 

He was back, that he was slowly accepting now. But it still sickened him that the game he had underhandedly escaped from, the game he had lost and jumped ship from, had somehow managed to pull him back in. It took away all the points his hanging had done, had granted him. 

Vincent snarled. His lip curled in disgust, in anger, in loathing, in abhorrence.

Even when his phone rang, the sharp Alistair Hol in the contact ID. 

_ Especially then.  _

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading through the first chapter! feel free to comment or, if you ever liked it, press that kudos button eheh uwu


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